Domino
by Abibliophobia
Summary: A terrifying chain of events leads to uncovering the truth of the federation's darkest secret, their greatest mistake! This part: the prelude to the storm (Rated T for some swearing)
1. Chapter 1 - A Wanted Man

**Domino**

**Chapter One: A Wanted Man**

I do not own Star Trek. There, I said it :-) and now thats out of everybody's system, please read on...

* * *

Leonard McCoy jerked awake with such force that his head snapped back from the pillow he's buried his face into as he slept. His heart was racing and sweat trickled down his neck as he pushed away from the crinkled sheets he'd been lying on top of. He was still fully clothed, his blue uniform top darkened by perspiration. He got up and headed across to the sink, stripping away his shirt as he went. He leaned over the small sink, splashing his face with cool water, washing away the heat and the fear while the remaining tendrils of the nightmare retreated from his conscious mind.

He made his way to the desk and sank wearily into the chair, leaning forwards onto the desk top and glancing at the chronometer on his wall.

02:00.

Just over an hour since his night staff had shooed him from sickbay, reasoning that nothing could be so important that it shouldn't wait a couple of hours for him to get some sleep.

Sleep? He mused, a hollow chuckle escaping from his lips, now that was a laugh.

It was usually him that counselled others through their insomnia, now he wanted nothing more than to trip on over to Jim's quarters and ask him with a cheerful grin to return the favour.

He squeezed his eyes shut at the uncomfortable memory of their first conversation since Leonard had returned to the ship and to his role as Chief Medical Officer.

Nobody had taken his place, and the Enterprise had been on light duties because of its reduced capacity to cope with trauma. Dr M'Benga had stood up as Acting CMO and nobody understood why their ship's surgeon had taken sudden leave of his ship, his crew, his family.

The sense of betrayal had been written all over Jim Kirks face as he met his former friend in transporter room one.

McCoy had been dreading the moment, but nothing could have prepared him for the carefully controlled anger in the Captains eyes, or the way his voice shook with it as he spoke.

Some hope inside of McCoy died in that instance. The hope that he could return to how things were before, that he could heal, comforted by the presence of the friends he'd missed so much, the family he'd left behind.

He stared straight ahead, a grim and familiar numbness flooding his senses, and drawing himself sharply to attention as was customary he asked for permission to board.

James Kirk paused and seemed to consider the man standing before him for a moment, trying to make sense of what he saw, for that man was not what he had expected at all; he was… different.

Finally he spoke, "I wasn't surprised when I received news of your reassignment here. Although I usually reserve the right to make my own choice in such matters, it would seem I have none."

Kirk waited, observing. McCoy didn't flinch. At last, the scrutiny ended.

"Permission granted. I believe you know your duties." Kirk turned on his heel and left McCoy and the transported technician with each other's company. McCoy didn't say a word as he shouldered his bag and dismounted the platform.

"Sir?" the technician called from his station causing McCoy to pause by the door, "It's good to have you back Sir."

He nodded gently in acknowledgment, and continued on his way.

xxx0xxx

Eight months, five days and seven hours previously McCoy had just finished a particularly long and boring shift sorting through, writing and vetting annual performance appraisals.

There was nothing worse, and as the head of the science department, Spock read through every single one picking them apart for grammar, accuracy and efficacy prior to submission back to Personnel at Starfleet command. It sent his nurses mad, and that afternoon, several of his staff had made their way moodily into his office to discuss the next reason that a report was unfit for submission.

"The report does not effectively evidence the grades attributed to the performance indicators…" Nurse Francis had read, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? I mean, I've written up the same medic three times already and each time he's found fault!"

McCoy sighed, "Leah, he wants you to give examples of when Ensign Jonah has demonstrated the attributes which lead you to give him a specific grade."

"Well I did that already Doctor, and he said the report was too long! 'lacked efficiency and brevity' I think were his words…"

"So try to summarise, look, grab two cups of coffee, I'll find you a good example and we'll work from there ok?"

Four hours and five more cups of coffee later and McCoy had finished proof reading and editing the last report.

He got up from his office desk stiffly and stretched. He was making his mind up to head down to the gym for an hour before turning in when his screen alerted him to a new message. Fully expecting it to be Spock working late he opened the message for a cursory look before setting off.

What flashed up in his messages was not a stream of further admin pointers from their beloved first officer but a high definition micro image of a ribonucleic acid strand, rotating slowly on his screen. Intrigued, he stepped forward for a closer look.

The terminal went blank, replaced by an alert:

Starfleet Security

Highly Classified Content

Request ID verification

He moved a hand to access the com unit and flicked a switch, "Sickbay to bridge, communications."

"Uhura here, how can I help you Doctor?"

"Did I get any messages today? Not counting all the earache I got from the bridge that is, external messages only."

She chuckled lightly, "Keeping you busy? I have one new message sent directly to your office this afternoon. I can't access the content summary, it would seem its restricted medical material, Starfleet codes, exact source undisclosed. Looks like somebody should be feeling important."

He smiled, "looks like somebody just got s'more work to do you mean."

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"You can close my account, that way I can get some peace around here." He grumbled amenably and the two traded light conversation for a minute or two before the message once again had his full attention.

"Identification verified." The computer stated matter of factly and the RNA strand appeared once again on the viewing terminal before shrinking and receding to the top corner of the screen making way for the information that followed.

The main body of the text consisted of a request for his opinion, followed by instructions on how to adequately code his findings and reply. The rest was scattered pieces of research data, nothing conclusive from what he could see. He set to work analysing the RNA strand and the limited data accompanying it, running simulations to determine its nature and effect.

It didn't take long for him to determine that it was viral RNA and he paled as the pieces of the puzzle came together in his mind.

Working deep into the night he finally coded and saved his findings as an attachment to his reply which consisted of just four words, short, to the point and laden with concern:

'_Has anyone been infected?'_

xxx0xxx

Three days came and went without reply and McCoy could not quite hide the worry nagging at the corners of his mind.

The Enterprise was due to embark on a standard diplomatic mission on a small class M planet on the boarder of federation space called Gia, their ensemble consisted of the Captain, First Officer, Communications Officer and a small team of miscellaneous personnel deemed necessary to assess the planets potential for exchange of knowledge and resources. McCoy was among them, a world of medical knowledge and the Captains second wing-man to boot.

McCoy groused, not certain why it had to be him personally and not a member of his 'highly qualified and competent team' as he had put it, that accompanied the landing party on another 'damned hand shaking exercise'.

"Bones!" Jim waltzed up behind his CMO and clapped a hand on his shoulder, "Who'd have thought you'd be the one I'd hear complaining about doing a little work for a change?"

"Get off it Jim, you know how I hate this stuff," he replied to the side as the men made their way to the transporter room, "next you'll be asking me to don the damned dress blues."

"You know it wouldn't be quite as fun without you," he added, "besides, it'll help take your mind of whatever has been eating you this last few days."

McCoy thought better of trying to hide his discomfort opting instead for a sarcastic smile aimed at his friend and Captain, "Don't play counsellor to me Jim-boy, I can do that myself with a bottle of bourbon and a good book."

Jim laughed and it did the trick, his optimism was infectious and instantly put his friend at ease.

"C'mon Bones, I need you. Who else can I trust to keep me out've trouble?"

"Well, it depends what kind of trouble you mean. The blond haired, long legged kind I might struggle with."

Jim threw a faux look of indignance at the Doctor as they entered the transporter room.

"Is everyone ready?" He questioned as he positioned himself on the pad straightening his uniform. Nods of affirmative came from around the room, "Energise."

xxx0xxx

Negotiations were off to a good start, the Captain and Mr Spock were discussing the merits of diplomacy with the planetary council, Uhura had gone straight to work adjusting the universal translators to account for local colloquialisms and differences in dialect, botany and biosciences had already found at least five different potential uses for the planet's more common flora and McCoy had met a kindred spirit; a Gian by the name of Raos, Physician to Gia's version of High Chancellor.

Their economic growth had come on in leaps and bounds since the development of their own warp technology and they had already been approached by several of the galaxy's less savoury characters offering trade and alliance.

"Looks like we got here just in time," Kirk had said as they sat down for a meal at the end of the first day, "Chancellor, as you can imagine, not every race in this galaxy is as dedicated to fairness and diplomacy as the United Federation of Planets. That is what we offer; security, economic stability. We protect our allies and their interests, uphold interplanetary peace."

"Then indeed, we welcome your interest in our friendship." The Chancellor had been impressed with Jim's speeches, anyone would have thought he was a born diplomat, but then, that was as much why the Enterprise was Starfleet's first choice for touting the Federation as clearing up a particularly grizzly conflict – the man could negotiate his way out of anything. And where negotiation failed, sheer grit did the rest.

"To peace" they toasted and raised their glasses to the Federation's newest member.

The formal dinner went on long into the evening, and when at last they were in no danger of breaching etiquette where they to retire, McCoy made his fair wells and left for his room.

Bleary eyed and tired he had all but forgotten about the daunting message that had plagued his thoughts. He wanted no more than to retreat to the comfort of sleep, worries could wait for another day.

He rounded the corridor to the guest quarters as a young Gian woman approached him looking flustered, "Dr McCoy?" she questioned as she reached him.

"That's me, now what's gotten you in such a hurry?"

"You must come quickly, Raos has requested it."

"Oh, and did he say why?"

"No, but you must come, it is urgent" She insisted, pulling his sleeve in the direction from whence she had come.

"Well I guess you'd better lead the way."

He followed her a short way down a deserted corridor before she stopped and turned to face him, there was fear in her eyes, and regret.

"I'm sorry." She said before a pain exploded at the back of his head and his world plummeted into darkness.

* * *

**A/N:** **Let me know if you like, let me know if you don't like! See that box just under this note? (If you'r on you IPhone it'll be a tiny wee thing, if you're on your PC it'll be a fair bit bigger) Anyway... Please review! lol**


	2. Chapter 2 - The Runaway

**Domino**

**Chapter Two: The Runaway **

Today's disclaimer: I still don't make any money from star Trek... _dagnabbit! :-)_

* * *

_I don't want to open my eyes. _McCoy thought muzzily. His head was throbbing, and since the memory of his last conscious moments had begun to creep its way back into view he had orientated himself just enough to realise he didn't really want to know where he was.

He was tied to a chair - that much he could tell - and the restraints bit into his wrists as he tentatively tried their strength. Slowly he opened one eye, noting that the light wasn't bright enough to make his head feel any worse, he opened the other and sighed.

He was in a small dimly lit room; he could see no furniture or decoration, just a small barred window on the door off to his right. _A cell then,_ he surmised,_ great, and what have I done this time? _ He scrolled through the events of the day before but couldn't come up with any blaringly obvious faux pas. Hell, Jim didn't even try to make off with any of their women…

His thoughts were interrupted by a muted beep and a click from the door. It opened and a tall man walked in, he didn't look Gian, nor did he look human. His jaw was thick set, his face held a greyish hue, almost as if he were incredibly tall, incredibly strong, but a bit ill. His eyes were completely black, but that didn't hide the contempt he saw there; contempt that was directed straight at McCoy.

Without warning a huge fist flew towards him and smashed into his jaw, cracking his head to the side like a whip and leaving a spinning, painful world in its wake. It took a moment to gather his senses before he spat the blood from his mouth and turned to glare angrily at the tall man.

"_What the_ _fuck was that for?!" _he swore in spite of himself balling his fists in frustration. _God if I could jump the bastard!_

Infuriatingly, the man smiled and walked slowly around the back of the chair so McCoy couldn't see him.

"I prefer to deliver messages in way that will always be understood the first time." McCoy heard from somewhere close behind him.

He felt something cold connect with his neck followed by a small sharp pain as whatever it was latched onto his skin. He winced.

"Now," continued the man, "What is your name?"

McCoy blinked and tried to turn his head, "What so you just go around snatching up random people?" he snapped, "I think you know my name."

In the next instant a bolt of burning agony shot through his neck and down his spine from the thing that had just been placed there. He threw his head back, letting out a pained cry through gritted teeth. Then, as abruptly as the pain had started it ceased. His head lolled forward as he drew in his breaths in ragged gasps.

"Shit."

The single word fell from his lips and his mind flew back to his pre-mission training on capture and survival.

Speak, but don't give in. Keep your mind occupied, stay alert, stay sane…

Another jolt ripped him from his thoughts.

"I said, what is your name?"

McCoy fixed his vision at a point ahead of him, making every effort to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

"Leonard McCoy."

He could feel the man's satisfied smile as he paced back round to the front of the chair, crouched down in front of it and examined his prey.

"Well Leonard McCoy, we have some things to discuss."

xxOxx

"I won't believe it." Jim Kirk paced the length of the briefing room closest to the bridge.

"I don't care what research this Raos has got that is so interesting; Bone's wouldn't just disappear without at least _telling_ us where he was going."

"The behaviour is disturbingly out of character," Spock conceded, "Even for McCoy."

"Starfleet has tied my hands Spock," Jim stopped pacing and turned towards his first officer and friend, "In the interest of interplanetary relations, we aren't to interfere."

The memory of his conversation with Komack left a sour taste in his mouth, "Practically accused me of jumping to conclusions. _Looking_ for a fight…"

Two days ago the Chancellor's aid had informed Kirk that his medical officer had been called away to investigate a particularly important bio-scientific find, deep in one of the many cavernous regions of Gia's rugged landscape. He may not be able to communicate from the region, but the Chancellor was assured by the research team that their personnel were regularly contacted and remained completely safe.

Even knowing how passionate Bones was about his job, the explanation was hard to swallow, as scheduled check-ins came and went without a peep from the doctor.

Anxiety gnawed at the pit of Jim's stomach, something wasn't right, and with or without Starfleet's approval, James Kirk would find out what it was.

xxxOxxx

Hours bled into days, and McCoy lost his perception of time where he sat in his dingy cell. He was released from the chair between interrogations and while he couldn't say much for the accommodation, at least there was a small area for ablutions at the rear of the room; a toilet to throw up in - a blessing that he didn't have to stare at his own vomit.

His hands were tied together, but in front of him so he could rub a palm through the stubble forming on his chin before leaning backwards onto the cold stone floor. The movement hurt, his ribs hurt, his back hurt… he quit the list and concentrated on what didn't hurt. _My left foot, _he thought with small amount of satisfaction, m_y left foot doesn't hurt. _The big guy, who he now knew to be called Sul, had stood on the other one, or he could have made that boast of them both.

It hadn't taken him long to discover why he was here; the virus he had received data on three days before reaching Gia was the reason. The questions were always the same, what did he know? What had he seen? What potential did the thing have as a weapon?

Oh, they had changed tactic, saying that they had the power to cause widespread infection; that he would have to assist them, or loose everyone he held dear. But, he reasoned, why would they be so keen on gleaning the specifics from him if they already knew?

No, he reassured himself, they didn't know and they wouldn't know either as long as their only source of information was him. It would die with him, and that was that.

Unless he could make good his escape.

Surely Jim would be looking for him by now? He had paced the room in the beginning, looking for weaknesses in the door, trying to get a glimpse through the small window to see if there were any guards hovering outside his small prison. Later he had made up his mind to take a leaf out of Jim's book; he would have to be opportunistic, do his best with the energy he had left before it was too late to try.

They never stayed away for too long and when they returned, he'd be waiting. He'd done a pretty good impression of a dying man after their last visit, in honesty he hadn't had to try hard. But he'd fallen to the ground with all the listlessness of a man who's energy was spent, hoping that the act would lull his captors into a false sense of security.

Hearing footsteps along the corridor he rose up to stand behind the door. His body trembled with adrenaline; coursing through his veins with what he hoped was just enough energy to get him through. There were usually two interrogators, two guards and Sul wasn't always among them, if he was, he walked through the door first.

There was a familiar beep and click as the door unlocked, swung open and admitted a young man McCoy had seen only once or twice before. He was slight in comparison to Sul, and McCoy took his chance.

He kicked out hard against the first man's lower legs, knocking him off his feet then threw his heavily cuffed wrists at the temple of the next man. They connected with a horrid crack and the man crumpled to the floor. McCoy grabbed hold of the man's phaser as he fell, turned it on the first downed man and fired. As the stunning charge discharged from the weapon he felt the hairs raise on his neck as a similar charge sent waves of static electricity through the metal door behind him.

Remembering the guards he threw himself further behind the door which was obstructed by two the fallen interrogators. Crouching down low he left his temporary cover to aim two rapid shots at the guards outside, one carefully placed at either side of the door huddled close up against the walls, but neither looking at the floor at the base of the door.

Both men fell, stunned. McCoy stopped briefly to check each man's pulse before he left, just in case he thought, just so I know.

Satisfied that his conscience would not be among the casualties he left and made his way along the corridor, unsure as to if, or when, his luck would run out.

xxxOxxx

It was common knowledge that James T Kirk was a man who took risks. It was also common knowledge that his crew could be counted on to stick by him faithfully, regardless of what those risks were.

However this one was another risk that, for their benefit, he would not let them take. Spock on the other hand was another matter. He had insisted upon following the Captain on the planet's surface, against Starfleet orders, to investigate the issue of their missing CMO.

As soon as the day's events had come to a close, Kirk took his leave of the Chancellor and continental ambassadors, leaving - so he said - to attend to an issue that had arisen regarding a member of his crew. He did not lie, he merely didn't elaborate, and left with the Gian Chancellor's blessing.

Their first port of call had been the hospital, where they found Raos' secretary, a nervous looking young man who politely explained that the physician had indeed been called away to attend an important expedition, but that was the extent of his knowledge on the matter. They left - they said - to check in on the other scientists from Enterprise, with a quick enquiry as to where each was situated and how the young secretary felt their exchange was progressing. Pleased that he wasn't suspicious, they headed off before diverting to Raos' office to make their own enquiries.

It wouldn't take long for Spock to access the physician's personal account and find the information they needed. Kirk stayed on guard outside the door while Spock cautiously entered. They carried small scrambling devices which would obscure them from the view of any surveillance technology present; the threat was only from passers-by. Three long minutes passed before Spock emerged.

"Jim, there is no record of…"

He was stopped by the approach of a young woman who eyed the two officers cautiously before she spoke, beckoning them to a quieter area off the main corridor.

"You are Captain Kirk and Mr Spock from the Enterprise?" She asked in hushed tones.

"It would appear you have me at a disadvantage Miss…?"

"Yasayasemte," she added, "Please, call me Yasa."

"How can we be of assistance to you Miss Yasa?" Spock enquired innocently.

She looked around, checking on their solitude before continuing.

"You are missing somebody, I know. I also know where you can find him. There is a place, not far from here, where they keep people locked away. Our government pretends not to know, but they only stand to benefit from what they take away from the people there. He is in great danger."

Kirk considered her words, casting a subtle glance at Spock for his unspoken opinion. It was the only lead they had and nobody had any reason to suspect they were here looking for McCoy.

"You know where this place is?"

"I will show you, if you will come with me?"

Little over an hour later they came to a small hatch in the ground outside of a heavily guarded perimeter wall.

"They don't know about this place," she whispered, prizing open the cover, "It leads right to where they keep them."

They descended an aged, creaking staircase into the gloom of a dimly lit passage way. While they walked here Yasa had spun a tale of paranoid conspiracy theory and distrust for their government, he had begun to think they were following a false lead until, walking down the corridor, they spotted what they may have been looking for.

Three guards lay stunned in the doorway whilst another groaned and rubbed his head, a discarded phaser lay on the ground.

Not hesitating a moment longer Kirk and Spock ran full pelt down the corridor, their own phasers drawn, there was a disturbance up ahead and they rounded the corridor to follow the noise.

"I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!" Screamed the voice of a deranged looking Gian man, surrounded by guards, trying to calm him down, they were oblivious to the three that had joined them.

"Come now Sarn, it doesn't have to be like this. You don't want to spend another week in solitary?"

The man leapt forward with an enraged shriek and lunged at one of the guards. They quickly pinned him to the floor and administered a sedative.

The woman, who had been on Kirk and Spock's heals since their run from the empty cell suddenly threw herself forward towards the sedated man, howling in misery.

"Oh my love, my love what do they do to you…?" She wept dramatically. The guard took her gently by the shoulders and consoled her. She fell into his embrace, "I'm sorry, I ran away, I'm sorry…" she whimpered as the guard continued to reassure her.

The other guards where now looking past the young woman and the deranged man, their eyes were focused on the two Enterprise officers, Kirk thought of making a run for it, but back up had already arrived.

Within moments, they were surrounded.

* * *

**A/N: I can see this is going to be a long story. *Sigh* Oh well, que sera sera :-) Oh, and please review! **


	3. Chapter 3 - To Choose your Battles

**Domino**

**Chapter Three: To Choose your Battles**

(Still don't own it, shhh, its starting, get the popcorn...)

* * *

"Congratulations," the voice of Sul was the first to rise above the din of weapons coming to bear, "You passed."

McCoy stood with his hands lowered in defeat.

"Passed what; the entrance exam for the college of 'Best Failed Escapes?'"

"Funny," Sul tilted his head to one side, "but no."

He stepped forward, and raised the key which would unlock the electromagnetic cuffs attached to McCoy's wrists. He engaged it, allowing McCoy's hands to rest by his sides for the first time in days.

Sul offered his hand to shake, McCoy looked at it and ignored the gesture. Unfazed, Sul continued.

"You passed us." He explained, "you did everything that was expected of you, and more… they said you would. A man who has nothing more to lose than his career and his closest friendships," he added, "you'll fit right in."

"I think you're insane."

"Perhaps." Sul smiled and motioned to two of the many armed men that encircled them, "bring him."

xxxOxxx

Kirk and Spock stood as prisoners in the conference hall which they had so often stood as guests during the past few days.

The Chancellor motioned for the guards to leave before he spoke.

"I must admit it was unclear to me how worried you were about your crewman before this event," he regarded the two with the look of a father chastising his own children, "but the break in itself is of little consequence. I trust the young lady was unharmed?"

"Yes chancellor," Kirk stepped forward, "as we told your guard service, we met the lady as we were on our way to visit our crew, she was upset and told us people were being held against their will."

"Yes, Yes," the councillor sympathised, "and quite distressing. The facility at Guvan holds the most disturbed of people Captain, but I'm told the escapee Yasayasemte is exceptional; intelligent, perceptive, but unfortunately delusional and highly paranoid."

"I see." Jim felt his hopes draining away with every word.

"I can understand why a man of your character would feel obliged to investigate such claims further…" he paused, "although I am concerned that you would think us capable of such deception." The Chancellor seemed to think for a moment before continuing; "I will see to it immediately that you are able to speak with your colleague."

The Chancellor rushed away, and in his absence Kirk received an urgent hail from the ship.

"Captain Kirk this is Enterprise, come in please."

"Kirk here."

Uhura's voice rang back through his communicator's speaker, "Sir, we've received a code red transmission from a Gian defence vessel. There is an unidentified craft inbound, it does not respond to hails on any frequency, in any code or known language."

"Hostile?"

"Our long range scanners picked up a craft of unknown origin. It does not display any recognised identifying features. We have established it's shields are raised Sir, weapons status unknown."

"Acknowledged, do we have an ETA for the vessel?"

"At present speed Sir, ten minutes."

"Uhura; alert transporter rooms one and three to lock onto and beam aboard all planet side crew members with myself and Mr Spock last. Ship wide yellow alert, if that ship looks like it's coming into range early, alert me immediately, Kirk out."

Within a few moments the chancellor bustled back onto view.

"Good news Captain!" he exclaimed, "your doctor should be able to speak with you within minutes!"

"But will he be able to beam on board?" Kirk edged forward with frustration and worry.

"When they clear the cave system yes but," The Chancellor paused, drawing in the room's atmosphere, "Whatever seems to be the matter?"

"An apparently hostile vessel is on route to your world, we plan to intercept it. I need all of my crew…"

As he was speaking the transporter beam caught hold of him and took he and Mr Spock on board the Enterprise.

The Conference hall melted away from view and was replaced by the familiar walls of transporter room two. The transporter chief updated his senior officers as soon as they materialised.

"Captain, transporter rooms one and three reporting planet-side crew safely on board, we have been unable to establish a lock on Doctor McCoy."

"Send message to Gian High Chancellor with appropriate apologies for our hasty exit, detail current situation and recommend full safety precautions for his people, and tell him…" Jim let out a huff of frustration, "tell him I need my Chief Medical Officer. Now."

xxxOxxx

"You've been reassigned Doc," his former assailant rubbed his head and the welt that had formed on his brow, "and no doubt about it too; you're with us now."

McCoy stood with his arms folded, posture reeking defiance.

"Taff," Sul moved forwards between the two, "leave. You," he motioned to McCoy, "come with me. And don't try anything," he added, "it aint worth your while."

The pair walked from the former holding cell down further into the subterranean complex until they reached a large enforced door. Living genetic access codes barred entrance to all but authorised personnel. McCoy recognised the kind; their use had been banned across the Federation when more than a few reports were received of people unwittingly following their companions through such doors, only to be disintegrated before reaching the other side.

One access code: one admission.

"Step forward." Sul pushed McCoy towards the door.

A beam of energy shot outwards from the access panel toward him, making him flinch backwards with alarm. When the beam did nothing more than scan him from head to toe he relaxed a little.

"Personnel Identified: McCoy, L H. Lt Cmdr. Access granted."

Both McCoy's eyebrows reached to his hairline as the door gave way to allow him into the room beyond, warily he stepped forwards, a few moments later he was joined by Sul.

They turned the corner of the small entrance way into a large well lit room, lined with interface terminals and a vast arsenal of all the most up-to-date lab equipment. McCoy gazed around the room in amazement and more than a little awe before an oddly familiar voice broke into his thoughts.

"It may or may not surprise you to know that Gia and the Federation have in fact enjoyed a working relationship for quite some time. Although not officially sealed so to speak."

Admiral Gerard, officer commanding Starfleet Intelligence, stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the room.

Momentarily startled, McCoy stared wide-eyed at the Admiral. Noticing his companion in the room bracing up at the Admirals presence he made a half-hearted attempt at the same.

Gerard seemed to observe McCoy for some time, his features giving away nothing of his thoughts. McCoy's uniform was torn and blood stained, his face bruised and drawn, countenance oozing suspicion and anger.

"You're wondering why all of this was necessary." He assessed.

"I'm wondering when I can go home." McCoy growled.

"And by home I presume you mean the Enterprise?" McCoy detected a hint of amusement in the Admiral's voice, "That, is entirely dependent on you."

He motioned toward a nearby table and chairs, "Please, sit." He did not look back as he issued his next order, "Commander..."

Sul stepped into view behind him, "Sir?"

"Bring some water for the Doctor."

Sul moved off quickly and was soon out of sight of the pair sitting in the deserted lab.

"The rigours of our selection process are usually voluntary. I apologise, however desperate measures were required."

Within a few moments Sul was back carrying a pitcher of water and two glasses. He placed them on the table and moved off. McCoy stared at the jug hungrily but made no move to reach for it. Instead he narrowed his eyes and looked accusingly at Gerard.

"Why?"

Gerard leaned forwards with his hands clasped and thoughtfully observed the enraged man seated before him.

"Computer, play feed twenty four, Miram colony, 12-24 Alpha."

The largest terminal came to life showing a town square of a small but flourishing human colony. Children played in view of the picture, small shops and café's bustled with activity, people living their lives, chatting amicably with friends and acquaintances in the street.

"Forward 12, 2 and 7."

The picture shifted, and the lens darkened. At first it seemed they were viewing the square at night until a chip of the dark crimson filter flaked away from the lens allowing the light to shine through. The camera quickly adjusted for its sudden intensity. A woman could be heard screaming in the distance as the square came into focus. Chairs and tables lay in disarray, windows shattered, their blood stained shards twinkling in the daylight.

The woman stumbled into the picture, her face was grey and she was backing away from something in the shadows. "No please, don't come any closer." Her voice rose in panic, "please Mathew, _Please!"_

The camera wobbled and went blank, the remainder of the woman's desperate cry seemed to reverberate around the quiet laboratory.

xxxOxxx

Captain Kirk stepped onto the bridge, his mouth set, his features business like as he slid naturally into his command chair.

"Keep shields up, maintain yellow alert. Status report."

"Alien vessel continues to advance, no reply to our attempts at communication. ETA now four minutes."

"Analysis."

"Ser," Chekov, who had been manning Spock's science station until the two entered the bridge, inched forward, "Ze wessel appears to be swerical in nature, its shields prewent detailed scans but it appears zat ze main body of ze ship is comprised of many smaller compartments. Shield strength is meeninmal and may indicate zey do not intend to do battle as a seengular entity."

"Assuming, Mr Chekov, that that is there intention. Have we had any more information from the Gian defence vessels?"

"Nothing at all, their channels are silent." Kirk's frown deepened, in such a situation the silence did not bode well.

"Continue to search for Gian ships. Uhura; Open hailing frequencies to unknown vessel."

"Aye Sir, channel open."

"Unidentified vessel this is Captain James Kirk of the United Starship Enterprise, your actions signify hostile intent. Withdraw now or I will be forced to fire upon your vessel. Respond."

An expectant silence filled the bridge. The approaching vessel slowed and came to a halt, the two ships now within weapons range of each other.

"Bring all weapons to bare on that ship. If they make a move we'll be ready."

A tense few moments passed before the com crackled to life and the Enterprise received their reply. It was short and broken, the universal translator picking up the salient points but for one word which seemed to be spoken in Standard.

"We come for one thing. You play ignorance, but you know. You will give me Domino."

"You will have to explain the nature of 'Domino'…"

"Give me Domino!"

Spock spoke up from his scanner, his voice filled with urgency, "Captain, just coming into view on long range scanners: a debris field, Gian technology, ship hull fragments, organic matter…"

"Red alert…"

"Keptin!"

Chekov's shout had all eyes focussed on the forward viewer. Kirk leaned forward in his seat, "magnify."

Tiny cracks had begun to form like crazy paving across the surface of the spherical vessel, the cracks widened and the ship appeared to open outwards like a dandelion clock shedding its seeds. The first of the cracks in the hull became holes in the ship's structure as small cone shaped individual craft emerged from the whole.

Jim Kirk's eyes narrowed as he gave the command to strike; "All forward phaser banks, broad aim of that structure, fire now."

xxxOxxx

"They're all dead aren't they?" McCoy broke the morbid silence in the lab. After respectful pause, the Admiral raised his head and began to speak.

"During the Federation's more formative years, great economic expansion and growth in population saw our people lacking in some basic resources. Standard terraforming was slow and often saw limited productivity as the planets which were deemed suitable required far more investment in materials, man power and time to sustain a small colony or agricultural outpost than was gained by the investment."

"Like Mars or the Gliesen moons..?"

"Yes," Gerard nodded before continuing, "Lack of existing life was a requirement for settlement due to the sheer risk presented by alien biology; plants, bacteria, insects. At the time very little research had been conducted into preventative medicine. The threat was considered unacceptable, so naturally we began to look at possible alternatives.

A way was found to adapt a fruitful world, to make it a safe place for mankind to live without even setting foot on the planet. Of course, the research was still in its infancy when the project was shut down…"

Admiral Gerard paced across the lab as McCoy watched, he turned his hand around a panel from which a holographic image of a green world blossomed into view.

"Take a class-M world or moon, fill it with primitive alien biology and what do you have? : A biohazard the size of Uranus.

Their solution was to create an organism which could effectively stabilise such a planet making it suitable for colonisation. The Domino virus, so it was named, would once introduced spark a chain reaction which would render all organic matter inert."

The green sphere began to change colour as it rotated, the deep brown of dying vegetation spreading across its surface.

"The virus itself cannot survive on its own, it is incapable of sustaining itself for no more than a few hours outside of a living host organism. Once the organism is destroyed it has no choice but to move on or die rendering the virus itself harmless."

Dark brown turned to grey, then to sand before the hologram vanished from view once more.

"The prediction was that from introduction of the viral agent to planet-wide life extinction no more than a matter of weeks was required."

"That's the most inhumane, twisted, barbaric idea I have ever heard!"

"Which is exactly why the project was abandoned, what kind of a peaceful spacefaring people would run the risk of being reputed for expansion by mass-extinction?"

"My God man!" McCoy fairly exploded at the Admiral, "They were plotting planet-wide murder and you're worried about _reputation? _What kind of a human being are you?!"

The Admiral seemed to expect the Doctors outburst and smiled, "not the kind you are so ready to believe I am. Of course, I agree with you and so did they. Once the potential for destruction that the Domino virus presented was realised the research was not only halted, but its very existence erased from historical record, it was forgotten… until now."

"The Miram colony?"

"The first team assigned to investigate the nature of their crisis have gone silent, initial reports made reference to misappropriated information and implied the colony had been used as a testing ground," he brought up the image of the viral RNA McCoy recognised from his own office nearly a week before, "for this."

"What do you want with me?"

The Admiral waved a hand and cancelled the image on screen. He turned to face McCoy expression cold.

"Not want. Have. I have you, as part of the team assigned to determine the nature of the threat posed by the Domino infection. You have been reassigned, and at this point I hope that you are aware of how little say you have in the movement."

"Wait, what the… No! This is crazy! With all due respect Sir, I am assigned to the Enterprise, You can't just go snatching people however you like, on who's authority…"

"I _AM_ the authority," he boomed, "go through your chain of command and they will come to the same conclusion, not to mention have you court martialled for disobeying a direct order. From now until the completion of your assignment you are to have no contact with your former colleagues, you are never to discuss anything relating to this mission or the Domino project, am I understood?"

"I can't just disappear, they need me there! I won't…"

"Won't protect them? Won't step out for the chance to save them from the destruction of everything they hold dear….?"

Gerard stalked towards the Doctor, his posture menacing.

"We sent you that message to see if you could tell us something new, tell us something we didn't know about the threat we face. We held you, questioned you to test your strength and resolve. You passed the test. Now you know the facts. How now can you expect us to simply let you go free?"

McCoy backed up, realising his situation; there was nowhere to go.

"You are in deeper than you care to realise Doctor, if you know what is good for those you love… your friends, your daughter Joanna… you will listen closely."

xxxOxxx

Scatterings of explosions pitted the surface of the enemy craft while the mass of freed vessels swarmed towards the Enterprise, each bringing its own weapons to bare on the Starship.

"Incoming fire; standard phaser-like weapons, shields are holding."

Sulu's marksmanship skills shone as forward phasers intercepted many of the incoming craft. Before long the swarm had reached all sides of the Enterprise with weapons operators ship wide coordinating their efforts to down the small and manoeuvrable attackers.

"Minimal damage to aft shield, compensating now…"

With 50% of the enemy craft destroyed, the fight seemed a pointless waste of life. Obviously outgunning the enemy vessel 10:1 Kirk indicated to Uhura he needed a channel to the enemy ship.

The last of their cone shaped vessels were about to break away, leaving a glowing pitted sphere exposed and vulnerable.

"Enterprise to enemy vessel, we do not wish to destroy you, call off your attack and we'll talk."

As if in response the glow of the sphere intensified and waves of energy pealed outwards into the surrounding space.

A panicked shout came from systems monitoring station to Kirks left.

"Captain! Aft shields failing, power outage, decks six through eleven and spreading…"

"Cause?" a feeling of dread gripped the Captain as the bridge lighting flickered and gave out. Emergency lighting flickered and cast an amber glow on the anxious faces of the bridge crew.

Spock, from his scooped position over his scanning equipment offered the terrifying explanation.

"The waves currently being emitted from the enemy vessel's core Captain, are causing a dampening effect on all ships systems…"

"Sulu!"

No further explanation necessary, Sulu focused forward phasers on the glowing sphere. "Captain, phasers have gone off line!"

"Arm photon torpedoes, knock out that sphere."

Spock launched away from his scanner as sparks flew from the viewing terminal.

"Sir!" another shout from systems, "Shields are out across the ship! Decks 11 and 15 show breaches, automatic compartment seals have engaged…"

The smaller vessels swooped in on the Enterprise, peppering the hull with phaser fire, a shot narrowly missed the bridge dome and smoke billowed from the ceiling, atmospheric pressure began to fall.

Calmly, Spock issued emergency breathing apparatus to each other bridge crew. An explosion somewhere in the belly of the ship rocked the bridge, damage reports had ceased to come through – all power had failed.

But in the place of more destruction rang silence.

The view screen crackled to life and the enemy commander's image swam into view. He was humanoid, his skin looked pale. He was sweating as he spoke, and black tendrils of skin wormed their way up his neck from his collar line.

"It will be you end" he gasped and fell forwards and out of view.

The sphere in the distance replaced the image in the view screen, flickering and losing its luminescence. Power immediately returned to the Enterprise.

"Shields!" Kirk barked the command, seeing the small craft ahead of them begin to emit a faint glow, "We may be half blind but I'm not willing to bet that is good. Engineering!"

"Scott here Captain!" The engineer's voice sounded frayed with exertion; silently Kirk thanked God he was still there to answer.

"Get us out of here Mr Scott. Everything you've got."

"Ye'll have no complaints from me Sir!"

The familiar thrum of the impulse engines powering up sent a wave of premature relief through the tense atmosphere of the bridge.

Until every one of the small enemy craft simultaneously exploded.

Bombarded from all sides, the Enterprise was assaulted by the shockwave of each enemy vessel's destruction. The ship lurched sickeningly and plunged into darkness.

* * *

**A/N**: I'm not going to lie, action scenes scare the hell out of me, after all, I can't just go sticking BOOM! BAM! and *cut to scene of people flying across engineering in a big expolosion* etc through the narrative. So any hints and tips are most definately appreciated, the rest is up to your imagination. Reviews however are always better posted than imagined (wink wink!) Thankyou so much for the reviews posted so far :-) your support makes the writing worth while xxx


	4. Chapter 4 - Loss and Loyalty

**Domino**

**Chapter 4 – Loss and Loyalty**

Disclaimer: passion not profit :-) Enjoy!

* * *

Spock's perception of time never faulted. For example, he could tell you that between impact and safely evacuating all personnel from the bridge exactly four point nine two minutes had elapsed. Even having said that, time seemed to slow.

Emergency shielding had engaged the minute the bridge's domed roof had been compromised, emergency lighting all but failed as loosened units were pulled from their housing eventually bouncing uselessly from wall to floor in the lowered gravity of the compromised bridge.

He blinked, once, twice and swiped the emerald liquid from his eyes as he scanned the gloom.

Logic dictated that in many situations, what was lost in self-sacrifice was worth the benefits of loyalty and kinship. His inner-most thoughts and desires dictated that, even if it was not logical, he would do what he planned right now.

So one by one, Spock hauled the unconscious forms of his crew mates from the smouldering remains of the bridge. Each time leaping back toward the flames, feeling the burning of his lungs and shamelessly embracing the knowledge that with each successful attempt, another of his friends was saved.

Were he to survive, he thought as he hauled the last remaining survivor into the emergency exit shaft, he would find a logical justification for his actions.

Were he to survive…

Sights and sounds intermittently flooded his awareness, he was being carried and in the next (estimated) four hours several things came to his attention.

Jim, leaning over him, offering words of reassurance. Unnecessary…

Chaos; wounded crew members flooding through the doors of Sickbay, overwhelming resources. If only he could go to his quarters, meditate, he would not add to this situation any more than he could take away…

Jim, holding the hand of a young Petty Officer as he lay dying, praising his bravery, the man smiled in spite of his pain, and breathed his last.

Then end, rushing up to meet him as the tide meets the shore. He body was losing the fight…

"Jim..." he called weakly, trying not to alarm, he just needed to reach him.

"Spock," Jim was by his side in an instant, "stay still, everything will be just fine."

M'Benga quickly pulled him to the side, "Captain, I have one bio-stasis chamber just made available. And in his condition it is imperative…" he trailed off at the look on Kirk's face.

"We don't have the resources," he explained, "Medical was already awaiting personnel transfers before McCoy…"

"Do what you have to." Kirk stopped him before he could continue.

"Spock," he came back to his friend's side, "we are putting you into bio-stasis until we reach the nearest fleet medical facility, hold on…"

xxxOxxx

Over the days following the Gian 'incident' Enterprise was relieved of all responsibility for the Gian diplomatic mission. Indeed, they were in no state to proceed any further than the nearest Starbase for repairs.

Thirty two crew men and women dead, another one hundred and eighty injured. He had raved and protested at Starfleet's apparent disinterest in the event, not to mention the disappearance of McCoy.

His cries fell on deaf ears. But it was during one interview with the admiralty that Kirk got an explanation.

"Doctor McCoy has accepted reassignment." Komack stated plainly over their com link.

Kirks brow furrowed in distrust, "he did what?"

"Oh don't worry Captain, Your CMO is officially on detachment from Enterprise, he may yet return…"

Kirk's anger overflowed in that moment, images of the last few days, the damage and loss flooding his emotional reaction to the Admiral's cool statement.

"Does he even know what kind of a mess he's left behind?" He demanded, standing from his chair in front of the terminal in his quarters, "have you even told him how many people _died _because he wasn't here?"

The Admiral's response remained cool.

"Captain Kirk, I've been in battle. I know what loss can do to a man. Which is why I choose to disregard your last statement, but not without caution. The nature of your Doctor's reassignment is of great importance to the Federation and will not be reconsidered, thus, until suitable medical cover is found the Enterprise will be placed on light duties…"

"Admiral! You can't sweep us under the carpet because something more interesting turned up! The Enterprise is…"

"At risk, Kirk, as long as its situation remains unresolved."

Kirk's features hardened. "Then assign me a new CMO."

"I would, if there were any available. For now at least, you'll just have to sit tight."

xxxOxxx

McCoy clenched his fists in frustration. He'd never asked for this, but he damned well wasn't going to fall on his face. When he'd stepped foot back inside Starfleet Academy, greeted by the same people who had coached and nurtured him through those difficult first years in the service the reality of his situation had truly struck home.

Mission specific training was into its third and final week and he, along with the other four 'recruits' in his detail were presently soaked to the bone. In the failing light the assault course looked even more grim, and considerably less safe than the first time he'd fallen from the scaffolding, got his boot caught in the ropes or nearly drowned in that damned crawl through.

Commander Sul paced the line of bedraggled men, making some speech about how pathetic they all were or some other bull crap that McCoy wasn't listening to, when he stopped in front of McCoy.

"Wouldn't you agree Doctor?"

McCoy narrowly resisted the temptation to punch the guy in the face, "I've more common sense than to agree with anything you say commander."

Sul drew closer so that McCoy could smell his breath in the cold damp air as he spoke, "Then speak your mind."

"I'm a Doctor, not a talk show host, now get out've my damned face before I give you another reason not to like me. Sir."

A badly concealed snicker rose from the line of men.

Sul grinned and stepped sideways of McCoy's personal space, "Whoever said I don't like you?"

He stopped, set his timer to zero before bellowing right in McCoy's ear, "GO, GO, GO!"

"Goddamnit!" McCoy cursed and the five of them were off around the course again.

The idea, so the commander had put it, was to get them used to the challenges and difficulties they may face 'out there'. As such a short section of the course involved running through a bombardment of projectiles which you hoped didn't hit you, not purely because they hurt but also because it had been made clear to them all that one of those projectiles might actually be the real thing.

This time around was not McCoy's lucky run; oh he scaled the ropes, managed to keep his footing on the wet scaffolding, didn't drown in the waterlogged trenches and was beginning to see how, if you were a bit mentally unbalanced, you might think this was fun, when something searing hot tore into his side and sent him crashing to the floor.

He was only half way through the course. A hand grasped his own and hauled him to his feet and before long all five detail members were crossing the finish line together, supporting their injured man between them.

A satisfied smile crept over the face of the commander, who then carefully tucked it away before approaching his new team.

xxxOxxx

Cody James joined the fleet at the tender age of 17, four years later and at the beginning of a promising career in bio-engineering Ensign James did the unthinkable and volunteered for Special Operations, and security no less, a sure way to either sky rocket your reputation or end your career with a short, sharp shock. At least, he had thought, he wouldn't have to wear a red shirt.

He'd accepted his first assignment with open arms, but from day one things did not seem to be getting off to a good start.

The oldest member of their team for one, had a serious chip on his shoulder from the word go.

"Cody James," he'd introduced himself with a proffered hand shake, "But my friends just call me Jim."

For a moment he thought he saw sadness ghosting through the older man's eyes but it was quickly replaced by a flippant wave off and a short reply, "Good job I'm not your friend then, huh Kid?"

It hadn't taken long for Jim to break through old Doc McCoy's crusty exterior or to find out the reason for his discomfort, you really didn't have to look far to identify one of the senior officers of the Fleet's famed flagship. Of course he hadn't chosen to be here, but whenever he was asked the doctor would joke sourly that he had been bored of the quiet life and had wondered if voluntary suicide would suit him any better.

One evening he had joined the Doctor sitting on the back step of their communal living quarters at the training complex, armed with no more than a flask of whiskey and a companionable silence.

He took a sip of the fiery drink and offered the flask across to his silent companion.

After a time he spoke, "You can call me asshole if you like, but I'd prefer we get to know each other a little better before we start name calling."

The older man offered a small smile and continued to gaze out into the dark night.

"You're ok Kid," he said at last, "and I'm sorry. I'm just a grumpy old coot who got more than he bargained for."

There followed another short silence before Jim took a risk he would later be grateful for.

"You miss them."

It was a statement, not a question, and the doctor's shoulders tensed in response to it. He spun his head round to look Jim in the eyes as if to assure himself that there was no danger in admitting what the younger man already knew. Thankfully, his expression softened, he leaned forwards with his elbows draped over his knees.

"Yeah, Kid. I do."

The silence that fell was not uncomfortable and heralded the start of what Jim hoped would be an understanding, even a friendship between the two.

The night of their final assault run was a different matter entirely. Instead of the quiet and withdrawn personality the team had grown to know for his wily use of satire and careful sharp wit a new man was pacing rather uncomfortably toward McCoy's bunk.

"The bastard! Of all the deliberate, spiteful downright… ow Goddamnit!"

He plonked down on the small mattress, unaware of the attention from the opposite side of the room. Jim stepped forward.

"Look like you could use a doc, Doc."

McCoy looked up, startled, but quickly recovered.

"Can it kid, I got this. Just promise me one thing; when I pass out, don't draw on my face like you did with Dozer." McCoy searched through his standard issue exercise kit bag and drew out his field med kit. It was small, equipped with a few basic items of essential equipment, not much more.

"You're gonna take the slug out yourself…? Whatever happened to medevac?"

McCoy narrowed his eyes at the younger man, "I back out now, we all have to do the damned course again. You think I'd put you through that? Anyway, I didn't think you'd be here, thought you'd be celebrating."

"And I didn't think you knew about what we did to Dozer. Guess we can all be wrong sometimes..."

McCoy continued to rustle through the kit, laying out the things he would require to remove the object lodged in his left flank. Jim chewed his lip.

"I did bio-engineering. Think I can help?"

"I'm a man not a science project…" McCoy snapped, Jim backed off and went to lean a little over-casually on the bunk frame.

"Is that the Mk5 dermal regenerator…?" he enquired innocently, "I helped design that thing. Is it any good…?"

McCoy raised one eyebrow and smiled in spite of himself. He'd underestimated the Kid already. "So you made your point," he conceded, "But I'm not letting you operate. Just load that hypo with the strongest damned stuff we have in a field med kit, and don't give me it 'til I say it's safe. I need a clear head for this. Damned thing's clipped my spleen."

A few long moments passed, McCoy ran his bio-scanner over the area and moved to make a small incision gasping something unintelligible (and probably quite profane) through gritted teeth.

"You want a leather strap?" Jim offered lightly.

"Shut up Kid."

A few more tense minutes dragged by as McCoy removed the shard of metal from the wound, repairing the worst of the damage before letting out a deep breath and leaning wearily against the bunk, his face ashen.

"When you're patching me up, you're gonna use anaesthetic, right?"

McCoy looked exhausted, but smiled broadly at the man before him.

"Depends…" he said as the world began to swim in front of him, "if you draw on my face…"

* * *

**A/N: **And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp !  
and surely I'll be mine !  
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,  
for auld lang syne

:-) Happy New Year xxx


	5. Chapter 5 - The Need to Know

**Domino**

**Chapter 5 – The need to Know**

**A/N:** Long awaited fifth chapter! But for all of you who have supported this story so far you have my heartfelt thanks :-) Reviews are inspiration, thank you Schematisation, mtcbones, Saavikam69, Pearlkat, ZenaraTheDragon, LORETTA JEAN and Demonwithaglassinhand for your thoughts!

So far: The Enterprise has lost its CMO to a highly classified mission involving a deadly contagen which can wipe a planet clean of life within days. Confused and more than a little angry, he must form working relationship with his new colleagues whilst simultaniously being denied any contact with anyone not involved with his current assignment. Meanwhile, the Enterprise and its crew are recovering from a devistating attack by an unknown enemy. Spock is injured and Kirk is left in the dark with only his instinct to tell him that something is dangerously wrong.

* * *

**After the Battle**

It had been a long road to recovery for Spock, beginning with his medevac to Starbase 15, through the regeneration of charred lung tissue, repair of ruptured vessels and ligaments, all the time stifled by his vulnerability. In his weakened state, he could not achieve a healing trance and instead remained sedated until their arrival on Vulcan.

Kirk had remained by his side, a constant presence; as if by simply being there he could rally his friend. In truth, he didn't want to be alone and the fear of it gripped him as he watched the sleeping form of his first officer, a man he realised he had come to think of as a brother.

Lifting his head slowly he turned his head to take in the view of the now quiet sickbay. Less than three weeks before it had been bedlam, scorch marks still marred the walls in places from the heat of exploding circuitry. He had once come here for comfort in times of need. Now he felt only growing bitterness and betrayal.

_He left us_.

"Captain?" A voice permeated the gloom, one of the night staff.

He shook himself from his thoughts, and cleared his throat, "Yes, Ensign, what can I do for you?" He said with a coolness that belied his inner turmoil.

"We're entering the Vulcan solar system, Sir."

On the insistence of Dr M'Benga, special permission had been granted for Spock to return home during his rehabilitation. With the aid of experienced Vulcan healers he could recover far more effectively and rapidly than he would sedated in a federation hospital, but it would still take time.

The Enterprise had left Vulcan minus another member of its crew, heading for Space Dock and further repairs. The ship fairly hummed with the anticipation of each brief visit home, the comfort of seeing family and friends before heading back out into deep space.

For James Kirk there was no such comfort. As he watched the Earth turning slowly from the viewing deck in Space Dock he felt the absence of his friends more keenly than ever and he was truly alone.

xxxOxxx

**Present Day**

A single voice rose frustrated and angry within the fortunately sound proofed walls of conference room two on board the Enterprise.

To press it had been primarily a one sided conversation with well thought out verbal insults and short, clipped replies. Kirk had summoned McCoy here hoping for answers, perhaps even a shot at redemption for his wayward friend, but his patience was quickly running out.

McCoy looked the picture of misery as Jim Kirk pushed himself forward from the far corner of the room, his temper flaring.

"You expect me to accept," he began, feeling his fists ball tighter with every word, "that it's perfectly _normal _for a senior officer to just desert his post, during a _crisis.._."

McCoy flinched.

"…without sign or sound, and not so much as an _explanation_…" he paused, switching his frustration for an attempt at reasoning, "I'm giving you that chance, to explain yourself, to at least give me some reason to trust you again."

McCoy realised he had squeezed his eyes tightly shut, opening them to find his gaze searching for a neutral spot on the floor. Anything but look Jim in the eye, which he knew, was exactly what he had to do. He raised his head and focused.

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

"I wish you would!" Kirk, as exasperated as he felt bellowed his response at McCoy but this time noted a change in the other man's posture as it swiftly began to mirror his own.

"Do you honestly think that free will had anything at all to do with this?" McCoy erupted suddenly in a burst of frustration, "Do you think that if I had a choice I would have just up and left?" It was Jim's turn to recoil as his opponent's pent up pain and indignation burst through the thick tension in the room.

"_You have no idea what I have been through!" _

Jim's expression softened, there was the passionate man he knew and missed, if he could just reach him. When he spoke his voice was calm, pleading.

"Then tell me."

"I… can't."

Blue eyes filled with agony as hazel turned cold.

"Then we have nothing more to discuss. Dismissed."

McCoy mustered his remaining composure and turned to leave in as respectful a manner as he possibly could all being considered. He travelled down the corridor at haste ignoring the concerned looks of passers-by until he stood alone at a dead end between a maintenance hatch and a Jeffries Tube. Retrospectively he would come to think that slamming his fist into an enforced bulkhead was not the most intelligent of things to do, but the temporary distraction provided by the breath seizing pain of two broken metacarpals was enough to draw him back to the present and the dubious task that faced him.

xxxOxxx

**Two months prior **

McCoy looked out over the landscape of Sedon 7, the outer moon of a gas giant which orbited tightly around its red dwarf star. Due to the planet's axis, Sedon 7 spent thirty hours of its fourty two hour day bathed in the comparatively soft light of its small and steady host star. Not too hot and not too cold, its distance from the gas giant saved it from the enormous gravitational pull which would have otherwise wreaked havoc with the moon's atmosphere; 30% oxygen, 69% nitrogen, a handful of other gases and water in vast amounts. An ideal place for life to flourish, and yet, none had ever evolved here.

It was hard to believe for so many reasons and now McCoy had another to add to the pile; Domino.

It had laid waste to the Miram colony, Sul's team had been the last of three to arrive, but by the time they did there was only a waste land, devoid of life.

McCoy shuddered as he remembered how they searched in vain for survivors, trawling the deserted streets for any sign of the preceding teams that had fallen out of contact soon after their arrival. There was none, only the signs of struggle and death; even the blood had turned to ash.

Sedon 7 housed a small research facility, recently commissioned to discover if a cure for the virus could be found, a weakness they could work with.

Not long after Miram's decimation the planet's surface was bombarded from space, a way if you will of soothing the nightmares of those who wondered if a trace of the contagion had remained. Miram was declared a testing ground for hostile biological attack, its perpetrators unknown. To prevent widespread panic, the incident was kept far from the public eye.

Deep in the darkest corners of Starfleet's intelligence division plans were laid to deploy covert teams into key locations to ensure the security of their mission; to trace and neutralise the instigators of the outbreak and find a cure for the virus before it could be used again.

Sedon 7 was one such key location, but unlike the others, it was deserted entirely. According to recent reports, the research station had suffered an outbreak after a containment incident. Like Miram, nobody was left alive.

Sul's team, having the advantage of two accredited scientists – a doctor and a bioengineer, had been tasked with reconnaissance. Their mission was simple: salvage.

"Take a seat Doc," Sul motioned for McCoy to sit.

"Entering atmosphere in three, two…" The shuttle's crew of five braced for the decent to the moon's surface.

After a brief and turbulent decent the small craft touched down softly on the loose ground at the edge of an abandoned settlement. It was obvious that, at least at some point, this had been the site of a small colony.

McCoy moved to exit the shuttle but was shoved roughly to the side by their CO. Sul scowled at the Doctor's lack of discipline as he motioned for Steph to take the lead.

Stephan Durn was a lithe man in his mid-thirties. An experienced soldier, he took point in any patrol (and for Sul every expedition, every landing party, was a patrol). As team leader, Sul took second place, Cody James was the middle man, McCoy being the medic was next in line followed by their rear man Daryll 'Dozer' Lefon.

Over the almost two months since their first meeting McCoy had grown to understand, if not entirely _like_, every member of the small team. He had never taken to calling Ensign James by his given nickname; he simply gave him another, which to Jim's annoyance had stuck.

"Hey, Kid." Sul gave Jim the heads up before throwing a small package in his direction. "Think you can handle these?" He smirked. The Kid simply shook his head and pocketed the small bundle of explosives before shifting his focus to the door.

"Weapon, McCoy!" Sul growled as Steph stalked out into the daylight, his own phaser rifle held tightly into his shoulder.

McCoy grudgingly complied, grumbling something about being paranoid, zipped his black field jacket up and scooping up a small satchel of medical supplies made his way, rifle in hand, to join the rest of the team on patrol to the station's to the main compound.

He jumped down onto the dusty ground, maintaining eye contact with Sul as he did. Two sets of eyes narrowed before Sul broke contact, pulling his head to the front as the patrol began to move forward.

Clay coloured dust clung to the fabric of their pants as they edged through the stillness of the old settlement and a feeling of foreboding clung to McCoy's chest. An inherent distrust and dislike for their commander was not the only thing played on his gut. What was Sul not telling them? He hadn't been this edgy on the Miram expedition, yet their team were the only ones to come away from the colony alive, they knew they may not come back at all.

A swirl of wind caught the dust on the ground, whipping it up into a spiral that danced around Steph's feet. He paced the distance from the shuttle through the nest of deserted buildings with confidence, directing the men quietly and efficiently toward a small compound that could be seen on a sloping hillside approximately half a mile away.

Raised up as it was, the compound was easy to keep track of as they moved forward, its large sealed doors threatening the discovery of more ghosts to add to Domino's tally, trapped beneath the ground.

A sound disturbed Steph at the head of the patrol, his hand spreading swiftly in a signal to stop as his head snapped round to the origin of the noise. Looking backward toward Sul, he saw the nod; permission to investigate. Rifle raised, he crept around the corner of the last building before the base of the gently sloping hill, steeling himself for discovery, he braced before launching around the corner, rifle aimed ahead. He caught movement and instantly directed his aim to the source; a pile of ruined fabric crumpled on the ground at the far end of the wall. He relaxed a little, thinking the contrast of colours in the clothing had simply tricked his eye. But moving closer he could swear he saw the cloth was _wriggling._

He froze.

"Boss!" He yelled back to the group, but turning his head he again caught motion at the peripheries of his vision – and it was fast.

A scream wrenched his focus to the last man, the team sprawled, dashing for cover while the hum of phaser fire filled the air.

He scrambled to the near edge of the last building in time to see Dozer being pulled at by some… thing. A mess of blood and wildly flying limbs that issued a curdling shriek as it took phaser fire from the nearest rifleman. Steph could have sworn he saw a pair of sharp eyes lock onto his gaze before the hit. Huddled close to the ground Steph saw McCoy fire off the blast which threw the creature away from the writhing man. The thing twitched, Sul stood, walking forward letting off shot after shot until the thing finally disintegrated. Sul lowered his rifle, staring in disbelief at the charred ground where the thing had laid; it should have been vaporized instantly - the rifles were set to kill.

"_Doc!" _Dozer's strangled shout pulled the commander's attention toward the sight of the fallen man, McCoy was already at his side, reaching for his med kit as he dropped to his knees.

The sight prompted only one thought for Sul - weakness. "There's no time for that McCoy!" he snapped, reaching forward as he marched toward to the two men. He grasped the collar of McCoy's jacket and wrenched him away from his patient.

"Boss…!" Steph called from ahead, "We've got company!"

Sure enough the shuffle of appendages on the ground could be heard, the team needed to make a run for it.

Sul threw McCoy forwards, "GO!" he yelled in his face, for the doctor turned back almost instantly.

"I'm not leaving him!"

A panicked groan emitted from Dozer, his eyes were wide and unseeing, he struggled to move.

McCoy set off back to his patient but Sul's large hand grasped his shoulder so tightly McCoy could have sworn he felt a clunk as his clavicle protested under the vice like grip. The two men were face to face, "You are too valuable to this mission for me to loose McCoy," Sul snarled, "or I'd gladly leave you here believe me."

"_Sir!"_ Steph's cry was more urgent this time.

The two men held each other's gaze. McCoy was furious, and he would not move. After all, Sul would have to see, the more time they stood arguing about it, the less time they'd have to escape. "Times a-wasting commander." He said simply.

Sul ground his teeth, the stand-off broke.

"Fall back!" he hollered, "Get to that fucking compound and don't stop hammering till we're in!"

The team beat a staggered retreat, each man taking it in turns to cover for the doctor and Sul, between them carrying the injured man, his head lolling further forwards with each step.

They reached the compound door as the moon's planet came between it and the small Sun, shadowy figures emerged from the outer buildings below and began to make progress up the hillside in the failing light of the building dusk.

"Spread out." Sul ordered, dropping the weight of the injured man and heading for the door. He tried the issued access code. No response, the door would not budge. He tried emergency override, again, to no avail.

"Shit." He balled his fists, thinking. "Kid, give me those explosives."

Jim reached into his pocket and withdrew the deceptively small item, passed it to Sul who made to fasten it to the door.

A phaser fired, followed by an enraged screech and a scuffling of limbs on the ground. In the twilight the shadows of their pursuers raced closer.

"Cover your ears." Sul braced the team for the explosion, but none came.

Instead the door release clicked quietly and the entrance lay clear.

xxxOxxx

James Kirk could not relax. The impromptu shore leave had largely been a positive experience for the crew, but Kirk knew the welcome break, relief of seeing family and friends was also peppered with the frustration of realising that your experiences held you apart from the ones you love. They did not understand. They didn't know why the sound of a police siren set your nerves on fire, or why the sound of a door slamming had you leaping for cover. The crew would need to adjust; they would need to come back to the home which had been theirs for the last three and a half years - they would need to heal.

The Enterprise' hull had glistened, catching the sunlight as she left space dock for the first time since commencing her repairs – a welcoming sight.

He had walked every deck, paced every corridor and inspected every room before her crew had begun to board. He'd circled the bridge, his hand tracing the contours of each work station and display, noting with a trace of satisfaction the subtle upgrades that had been installed. Under the direction of his chief engineer of course, the man knew what was good for 'his lassie'. He had smiled at that, until the sound of the com interrupted his thoughts; a request for permission to begin boarding. In his opinion, it could not begin soon enough. He fought off a shudder.

"_Something's got that ol' spidey-sense of your's tinglin Jim boy," _He could almost hear Bones tapping into his thoughts again with startling accuracy, "_if I were you I'd listen." _

Jim pulled himself back to the present, eyes repeating the familiar task of scanning the bridge, checking on the welfare of his crew; subconsciously taking in every shift in body language, measuring the atmosphere in the room. Pavel and Hikaru exchanged light conversation at the helm, he usually enjoyed listening to their banter or watching their carefully controlled glee as Jim played referee to another of Bone's and Spock's verbal wrestling matches.

It was too quiet. He glanced over to where Spock was working at his station. If the First Officer felt the absence, he did not show it.

Jim had kept in close communication with Sarak on Vulcan during the initial stages of Spock's recovery. He got the impression that Sarak had felt inclined to humour Kirk and his need for regular contact. Jim felt that he had Amanda to thank for this; if Sarak had felt the slightest amount of irritation it was carefully concealed, replaced by patience and an understanding born of experience of the human need for reassurance.

When at last, it was Spock who answered the daily transmission from Earth the smile that spread across Jim's face was wide enough for the both of them.

"My father informs me, you have enquired as to my well being..." Spock had begun to say.

"Well, Spock, I was just…" Jim had stammered slightly, allowing Spock to finish, eyebrow quirked in barely evidenced humour.

"…every day."

"…worried." Jim finished his own sentence before lending a resigned grin with a tilt of his head, "I hope you can forgive that very human condition. It's good to see you well Spock."

The silence that had followed was nothing less than companionable, content. They talked for some time after that; progress with the Enterprise, expected date of departure, everything except for the weather… and Leonard McCoy.

That evening it had been with nerves a blaze that Jim had stared out across San Francisco Bay.

There was no balance, no reason for the events of the preceding weeks. He had been denied a replacement CMO, he had been denied the right to enquire about the progress of the Gian investigation, let alone as - the main participant in the event – the right to be involved with it. The Enterprise and her crew were expected to simply continue as if nothing had happened at all.

It was need-to-know and the Captain of the Fleet's own flagship apparently did not.

Today, he focused on the hum and whir of the bridge's instruments in an attempt to zone out the continuous turning of his mind. What he needed was a distraction, he thought, stifling a sigh and resting his hand on his fist leaning to one side in the captain's seat. No, he internally corrected himself, he needed an explanation, but for now a distraction would do.

"Captain," Kirk's outward posture shifted smoothly from 'bored' to calmly alert, his eyes lifted to where Lt Uhura was seated, hand holding her ear piece more firmly in place, a look of curiosity and confusion gracing her delicate features as she spoke. Knowing she had his full attention she continued her explanation, hands working her station all the while trying to filter and sharpen the signals she received.

"I'm receiving a significant amount of audio static Sir." With a slight air of annoyance she frowned in concentration and began furiously entering figures into the data pad on her right, relaying the information straight back to her console, her expression shifted to concern with the result.

"Audio static?" Kirk used the phrase both as a question and a prompt, he waited until she turned in her seat to face him.

"Yes, Sir, the com traffic I'm picking up is definitely from verbal communications, but overlapping, in two or more separate languages - no encryption. It would suggest communication between a number of vessels, but the signals are distorted and repeating, almost like an echo. Very hard to make out any content, but the signal is strong and recent indicating its origin is close by."

"You seem concerned Lieutenant," Kirk pushed, knowing something else was worrying his communications officer.

She sighed, listening to the subtle changes in intonation between the few discernible voices she could make out. It wasn't an absolute, she could not yet make out any words, much less figure out the language or racial identity of the speakers, yet her years in xeno-linguistics, her natural affinity for sound, spoke to her of the fear carried through the buzz of transmissions. She listened to the shift, having separated the older sounds from the most recent, she heard how the noise changed over time. Expression of emotion was subtly different in all species, yet somehow to her it was the same. She could hear it, feel it, like an instinct raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She shrugged and reached to rub her neck to mask the reaction but glancing at the Captain she knew he hadn't missed a thing.

"Captain," she hesitated making eye contact with Kirk, his expression told her with confidence, he had complete faith in what she had to say, "Whoever they were, they were terrified. But the chatter cuts out after a certain point. It just stops…"

"Opinion?" Kirk stood from his chair, moving slowly toward Uhura's station, curiously eyeing the data filling the terminal in front of her.

"They were dying, Sir."

* * *

**A/N: **No jumping backwards and forwards in time next chapter, I promise! Please review


	6. Chapter 6 - Left Behind

**Domino**

**Chapter 6 – Left Behind**

* * *

The enforced door ground open allowing the five men to hurry inside, Seth's hand slammed control panel, prompting its swift closure.

Inside the complex was eerily quiet, the heavy breaths of the team piercing the silence. Emergency lighting was limited to a small glowing circle approximately 10 metres away across a large open foyer.

"Don't move." The command came from somewhere in the darkness. "Place your weapons on the ground and step away, now."

There was a moment were nobody spoke, eventually, Sul reached his decision. "Do as he says."

There was a clattering sound in the dark of rifles being placed on the floor. "We're unarmed." Sul proclaimed.

The lighting rose to full wattage, illuminating the huge room. Across the far side stood a man with wearing All-Vision lenses, automatically resetting themselves to the increased lighting. In his arms he cradled a huge phaser gun, one could only wonder what a research station could possibly need with something that looked like part of the Galileo's defence weaponry.

The man nodded to himself, as if in understanding of something. "So you've arrived," he said, directing his statement to Sul, his expression serious. "How many of you were injured?" He demanded, motioning toward Dozer, now hanging limply between McCoy and the Kid, "How many?!"

"Just one," McCoy spoke up, "and he needs medical attention, _now_."

Cautiously the man came forward; weapon raised, and checked every one of them in turn. He stopped lastly in front of Sul, "Pick up your weapons and follow me."

He led them down through a maze of clean, light grey corridors, speaking as they went.

"Names Carl, I'm one of the researchers 'stationed' here for lack of a better description." He let out a hollow chuckle. "I assume the bureaucrats got our last status update…"

They turned a corner, "Your man will have to be quarantined," he said stopping by a large heavy looking door, "if any of you start showing symptoms and don't report it directly, I'll shoot you where you stand."

The door opened and McCoy hurried inside, lifting his patient onto a single biobed in the centre of the room, it seemed the room was built for purpose. He got to work repairing the worst of the damage while Carl and Sul spoke.

"The colony was attacked," (so there was a colony, McCoy thought.) "We should have seen it coming given the nature of what they had us looking at down here. The scientists we have holed up in here are all that's left of the entire station."

"Who attacked you?" McCoy spoke out of turn, his eyes never left his patient, but he could feel Sul's warning glare all the same.

"I'm not even sure that attacked was the right word…" Carl continued, "They had a devise which disabled all outgoing communications, all power and defence systems selectively. By the time we knew they were here it was too late. They came asking for our help; they said we each had something the other wanted. It turns out they were right."

"I've stopped the bleeding, but the wounds will have to be decontaminated and healed in stages to prevent infection from settling in…"

"Does he have it?" Sul pressed.

McCoy spoke in hushed tones, keeping the conversation away from the team waiting anxiously outside the door. "That's not what I meant, but yes. The virus is evident in his tissues. He won't become infectious until…"

McCoy stopped. They both knew how the virus was spread.

"It shouldn't come to that, if I can keep him stable."

Carl stepped forward, eyeing the injured man calculatingly, "You want to save him? Then come with me. There's nothing you can do here."

"I'm a doctor; I don't just abandon my patients." McCoy asserted stubbornly.

Carl withdrew a small device form his pocket, tapped a combination on the small touch screen and shifted his gaze to the far wall of the room. The wall dissolved in seconds, like embers smoulder through a sheet of paper, within moments the smooth grey surface was gone, replaced by a large clear screen, beyond which lay a room. From the back of the room a smaller, nervous looking man emerged, he made his way down to a doorway that allowed passage between the two spaces. Something wounded and dark passed almost imperceptibly across the small man's features as he focused his gaze on the quiet and pale form of Dozer, lying centre of the isolation room, the quick but steady beat of his heart sounding from the monitor above his head.

"Thomas," Carl acknowledged, drawing the smaller man's attention to where he, Sul and McCoy stood, "You got this?"

Thomas' eyes dropped to look at the small sample containers he held in his hands, he passed them to Carl with a nod, "I got this."

He shuffled across to the far side of the room, returning with a loaded hypo and a cold compress. It was then McCoy noticed the small man's gait was off; he pulled his left leg behind him slightly as he walked. An old injury no doubt, but looking at the vast array of advanced medical equipment in this one room alone, somewhat hard to believe that it had remained unhealed.

"You're the doc?" he asked McCoy as he reached the patient's bedside.

"Yeah," McCoy responded sadly, he was beginning to feel that he would forget what that meant. It had been months since he'd done a routine physical, smiled knowingly at the dumb explanation that some crew member gave for their latest ridiculous injury, or saw right through the best and worst attempts at appearing 'fine' that any crewman could give.

He remembered the last time one of his nurses had spent the day hiding unshed tears, snapping at the junior docs for asking questions that experience, not med school, provided the answers to. He'd allowed the odd outburst, knowing it would be hypocritical of him not to, but eventually had called her to his office where he was seated , perched on his desk, arms folded with an expression one part concern, one part amusement and one part disapproval in equal thirds.

They knew each other well; her face fell. "Sir, I…I don't know, I guess I might be a little…"

"Hormonal?" He suggested, she shrugged her shoulders, her expression hopeful that he would accept the excuse and let it be, "Considering the amount of time I spend working with you ladies, I'm practically synchronised with y'all, or at least, that's what the Captain tells me…" he trailed of for a moment as if in thought, a hint of a smile ghosted the nurse's lips. "Anyhow," he continued, "while I'm not going to go and start checking myself for spontaneous ovary development, I _know_ that isn't what's got you down. That was last week." He stated simply, his expression softened.

"You don't need to tell me what's eating you, but if you need to, I'm all ears."

She nodded sheepishly.

"Plus I think Dr Samsun's gonna have a nervous breakdown if I don't reel you in… a little awe does a man good is what I say."

She laughed, and they began to talk about the scariest and most influential figures they'd worked with over the years, they chatted about work and home and as they talked she relaxed. Her smile became warm and genuine, he never did press her to tell him what was wrong but a few days later she had wondered into his office one evening at the close of the shift to ask his advice. In the end he needed to give little, turns out all she needed was an ear.

This steady hiss of a hypo snapped McCoy out of his reverie, he didn't realise he had been standing with his hand on the injured man's shoulder; he felt the muscles relax a fraction as the medication took effect. He looked at Thomas questioningly, "What was that?"

"A new sedative, developed here actually. It helps the pain better than anything else we've got." He gave McCoy his best reassuring smile. "We'll do everything we can for him."

McCoy looked on as Carl stepped up and carefully took tissue samples from the wounds. Sealing them in a hazardous sample container he passed them to McCoy before pacing out of the room. He stopped, indicating that they should follow.

"You will remember I said we each had something that the other wanted. Don't you want to know what it is?"

xxxOxxx

"Approaching debris field, Captain."

The Enterprise had traced the echoing barrage of com chatter to a point, just on the borderline of Federation territory. The physical signs of a fierce battle littered the space between three small planetary systems which lay relatively close to one another. Surprisingly, two of those systems had planets which supported intelligent life, less surprisingly they had long been locked in dispute over the third, a resource rich system, four of its five modest worlds used for mining its key product - dilithium. Trading within the locals was risky at best, near impossible as a rule. The Federation council had long ago deemed the area to be too politically unstable for negotiation or intervention, but had kept the three systems within view, conscious of the threat of other powers vying for influence over the region so close, as it was, to home.

The area ahead of them was a veritable graveyard.

"Slow to half impulse Mr Sulu. Spock?"

"Detecting at least five individual vessel signatures, evidence of battle damage within debris field…" He trailed off, concentrating. "It appears one vessel remains largely intact."

"Any life signs?"

"Scanning functions are impaired by residual radiation, I am able to detect atmospheric pressure within the vessel. There is no evidence of on-going activity on board."

"Any idea who the vessel belongs to?"

"Unknown, Captain. It is possible the design belongs to this region but it does not match any previously seen schematic for a S'toh'ian or Phelantian vessel, though there has been little significant contact with either race in a great many years."

"Prepare a boarding party, observe full precautions. There may be survivors or at the very least evidence that would point to what happened here."

xxxOxxx

Spock materialised in what they could only assume was the other vessel's equivalent of a transporter room; it was the safest area to transport, given the residual effect of surrounding radiation on the Enterprise's sensors. The room was small; dim green lighting illuminated the walls but did little to aid sight. He reached to activate his suit's AV system, noting with satisfaction how the room instantly came into full view without the assistance of a torch, the array of sensors in his visor scanning the surroundings and translating them into the view seen by the wearer.

Joining Kirk and the rest of their boarding party he made his way into the smoke thickened hallway. "The ships control centre would appear to be in this direction." He indicated to the left hand corridor.

"Begin scanning for life signs. Bexon, Dant, O'Dell, take the right hand corridor, Mr Spock and I will go left, stay within coms range."

Progress through the abandoned passageways was slow, the emptiness of the battle scarred vessel gave an oppressive atmosphere of gloom and despair, or at least that's how it seemed in comparison to the brightly lit and spacious corridors on board the Enterprise - this place was positively grim, presumably even on a good day.

The lack of crew, strewn weapons and mangled bulkheads only added to the feeling.

Lieutenant Bexon split off from Dant and O'Dell to explore one of the larger rooms in what appeared to be the ship's medical area. Making his way through the dimly lit room he stumbled over an abandoned... something. He scanned the small brown box, finding it to be similar to one of their own data pads. He picked it up, it was ruined – but as he moved the pad he caught sight of a console flashing to life on the far side of the room.

Cautiously he moved closer to the screen, unfamiliar characters rolled down alongside images from what appeared to be a log of some kind. He heard a sound and jumped, turning around nervously, checking for heat and bio-signs with the AV on his suit.

Satisfied that he was alone he chuckled nervously at the pounding of his heart in his ears and began analysing the display with his tricorder. Another sound made him look up, shaking his head at his own jumpiness he shouted for his colleagues, "Dant if that's you, man I swear…"

His tricorder beeped once drawing his attention. Indicating that it had managed to identify a close relative of the language in use it began loosely translating the words and sentences as they scrolled down the screen before him. As he read the script his eyes widened, goose bumps rose up his arms and he cursed loudly. He had to tell the Captain.

Jim and Spock reached the ships bridge, finding only more of the same; death but no dead… But here there was more of the ships own light and a brownish grey substance littered the walls and floor. Spock reached out for the nearest console, like the others it was damaged and unresponsive.

Several things came to Spock's immediate attention.

"Spock, this residue..."

"Yes," he confirmed his acknowledgement – the Captain had noticed too, "organic compounds."

"Now we know what became of the crew."

Spock nodded solemnly and made his way to the second thing that had grabbed his attention, a dormant console - dormant, but functional. At his touch the thing came to life, the display bringing meaning to the third thing that had gnawed at his foremost thoughts since they entered the bridge… a slowly rising hum.

A countdown.

Kirk's communicator chirped, followed by a worried report from the lower decks, "Bexon here Sir, there's something you really need to see."

Kirk's attention however had been drawn by the subtle apprehension he sensed building only meters away, he cast a questioning look at his First.

"Captain this ship is set to explode, by my best calculation we only have a few minutes – we must leave now."

Jim turned on his heal and began the run back to the transporter room, "All boarded crewmen this is the Captain, make your way immediately to the beam over point, I repeat, return to the beam over point now. This vessel is on self destruct."

Alone in the medical bay Bexon barely heard the exchange between the Captain and Mr Spock. Instead he realised he wasn't alone. His breathing quickened, he straightened his back at the chill of fear that tore down his spine. A shadow loomed over the console before him; there was something in the room.

Jim and Spock's party were the last of three to make it back to the transporter room on the empty ship and beam out, the other teams safely on board they waited for the last three men. Dant and O'Dell came sprinting into the room after them.

"Where's Bexon?"

"I don't know Sir, we thought he'd made it back already." Dant panted.

"Scotty, is Bexon on board?"

"No Captain, the five of ye'r the last"

"Can you locate him?"

"I can try, if I can get a hold of his communicator signal, I can take a shot at pullin' him aboard from wherever he is."

"I'm not getting a response from him Captain." Anxiety and realisation formed a mask of horror on Dant' s face – they'd left him behind.

"Jim we have less than 60 seconds, we have to leave now." Spock saw the concern etched on Kirks face but, he reasoned, staying here would only result in more death. They had no time.

"I've got a lock on the signal!" Scotty proclaimed, "energising now Sir!"

Before the transporter beam took hold, Kirk contacted Bexon's communicator again, "Bexon, if you're receiving this stay where you are, we're beaming you out now."

In the med bay an abandoned communicator lay open on the floor.

"….where you are, we're beaming you out now." The message played to the empty room as the orange glow engulfed the small instrument. It disappeared and seconds later, the ship tore itself apart.


End file.
